


Ultimate Iron Man: Ten Rings

by chaosSystems



Series: Alternate Ultimate Marvel [1]
Category: Marvel Ultimate Universe
Genre: Comic Book Violence, Gen, Superhero antics, Technology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosSystems/pseuds/chaosSystems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the devastating events of Ultimatum and the Armor Wars, Stark International is back on track, and Tony Stark himself is once more in the reigns of his vast technological empire... just in time to see some of his old shames be used behind his back. Determined to make amends for the blood on his hands, Tony intends to swiftly deal with the perpetrators with Pepper and Happy in tow. Too bad things quickly become much more complex than he ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ultimate Iron Man: Ten Rings

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Ultimate Comics: Armor Wars, and takes some liberties with characters and adds others and changes some things that have already been established in Ultimate Marvel canon. It's a pretty big 'what if' kind of thing, but assume that most everything that happened up to Ultimatum happened. Also, feel free to leave feedback!

“I could hardly breathe through the whole thing,” the young, Thai woman sobbed out, tears streaming down her face. “I thought I was going to die there. The guns never stop, I keep hearing them in my head. They never, ever stop.”

“And what kinds of weapons were they using, Ms. Mookal?” A man spoke out, suddenly, handing the woman a small plate of tea and fixed the blanket wrapped around her. 

“Th… they said Stark, in big letters. The shells of their bombs said Stark. So did their guns. We… we never stood a chance. It happened so… so fast.” She began to cry again, covering her eyes with the hand that did not cradle her soothing chamomile. 

Antonio “Tony” Stark finally turned off the television set, his face heavily shadowed within his dark room. He hoped that if everything was black, he wouldn’t be compelled to look himself in the mirror. He could just pretend nothing was his fault for a few more minutes.

Just a couple. That’s what he kept telling himself. 

Eventually, the sulking he had exiled himself to felt even more bitter than before, and not exactly cathartic. The bottle of Barrique de Ponciano Porfidio almost seemed to lose its taste when mixed in amongst the man’s sorrows. 

Countless dollars, even after everything that happened, more I.Q. points than ever necessary for one person, a legion of armored suits that could decimate a large country… and yet, Tony Stark still couldn’t stop his old guns from falling into the hands of horrible people.

“The Ten Rings are a big group, Tony,” someone said from the doorway, not bothering to turn on the lights just yet. “Them grabbing some of your stuff isn’t exactly shocking. I know that doesn’t help but…”

“If you know it won’t help, Happy, then why are you saying it?” Stark asked, venom and misery in his voice. Happy Hogan, security supervisor for Stark International Headquarters, finally flipped the light switch.

Tony’s room, his penthouse, was an absolute mess, as if a storm had torn through it, throwing pictures this way and that, bottles littering the ground, mostly in shards. Even the glass table that held up one of Tony’s newest ‘tinkerings’ was cracked. The blood on his fist said everything, as did the ugly, uneven dustings of hair shot across his face. 

“Because it needs to be said. You can’t just lock yourself up here forever. The world is going crazy outside, and the world needs Tony Stark. It needs Iron Man.”

The last words rang in Tony’s brain, echoing around the headache squeezing upon his psyche.  
“I know you just want to pretend like everything is in order and Rogers or S.H.I.E.L.D. or someone else can handle it this time, but--”

“You know, if Pepper wanted to give me a lecture, she should do it herself.”

Happy stopped in his tracks, sighing deeply. “Pepper is busy trying to trace whatever weapons were being used before. We might be able to find some leads. It’s not as easy as trying to track down IronTech, you know.”

Rubbing at one of his temples rather vigorously, Tony finally stood from his chair, aching body almost threatening to give out. In a flash, Happy was there to support him, holding the once proud hero up. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Happy continued, leading a limping Stark to the door. “Do you want to die a puddle of your own shame and vomit? Or do you want to do something about it?”

For a moment, Tony was silent, unable to even comprehend his own thoughts. “I… get me my link-ups,” he finally said through his pathetic haze, his mind crawling back up ever so slowly.

Within the confines of her office, Pepper Potts typed furiously at a keyboard, multiple monitors showing her junk information, providing nothing useful. Names, dates, theories, maps and mock-leads. She was doing everything she could to find the chink in the Stark International armor. All while attempting to assuage another angry associate of her employer who was currently barking into her ear. “No, Ms. Cabe, we’re still working on your newest order. If you want your own defensive measures so badly, maybe you should go to another international technological marvel that actually is recovering in the wake o-- oh? That sound more reasonable, Ms. Cabe. Please be patient, these are scary times, and we are very busy. If you want, I can bump you up on our waiting list… yes, thank you for your cooperation. Hopefully there won’t be anymore mishaps.” 

“Good show, Pepper. Next time I’ll need to remember to rent out seats,” a voice spoke out as Potts dropped the call. Pepper nearly jumped in her seat, but immediately calmed down, recognizing the voice. 

“You didn’t tell me you were finally up and running again, Tony. I’m glad,” she said, not looking away from the lists of information. 

Running his hands over his newly groomed jaw, mustache and goatee back to a more attractive look, Tony Stark at least looked like a halfway functioning person once more. “I got Happy making some calls. We’re going to start the ‘Stark Worldwide Relief Program’ up.”

“Do we even have the funds for that? I mean, we still are pouring our newfound cashflow into your various--”

“Take 25% away from the E-X group and have them push back experimentations until further notice. Stall the Heartbreaker program indefinitely and transfer its resources in the Relief group. We’re going to give those survivors something to look forward too, aside from capitalism and construction sites.” 

One of the monitors changed with a touch from Pepper’s fingertips, her other hand picking up the slack for the few moments it took for all ten of her digits to work in tandem, doing as Stark instructed. “Done and… done. This is really eating you up, isn’t it?”

“I can’t even enjoy drowning out the violently depressive voices in my head, Ms. Potts. Acts of superterrorism are one thing, stealing from me and selling IronTech secrets is worse, but someone got a shipment of my weapons and are using them to raid communities from China to Thailand… that blood is on my hands for being so careless.”

“It’s not what I’d call your fault, Tony. Then again, war profiteering has a tendency to leave a lot of innocent people dead.” 

“Ex-war profiteering, thank you, however right you are. I have to fix this. My tech, my responsibility.”

“These Ten Rings are bigger than the Taliban, Tony. How are you going to find them? What are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to give our friends questions that need immediate answers. And then I have a six-hundred and forty-two pound peacekeeping device that I will strap myself into and keep said peace.”

“..does that mean I can stop crunching names and numbers?”

“For the love of god, yes. It’d be a shame if the world lost another smart redhead to neural friction burn.”

Soon enough, Stark had what he wanted, packaged within several luxury apartments: the survivors of the Ten Rings’ latest massacre, an interpreter, a camera, and three large bottles of fine, red wine. 

Tony kept it simple, even for the few that could speak English. “Do you know the location of the group that attacked you?”, “Do you know who leads them?”, “Did they say anything about what they wanted, aside from children and food?”, and “Do you know how they got their weapons?”

Most answers were along the lines of “Close, yet still very far, perhaps in the mountains.”, “No.”, “Uhm?”, “From Americans?”

Of course, there was no blaming them, even as Tony grew exasperated. The tracking devices on the guns were off, and there were no reported leaks in the system. However, Stark came face to face with the one survivor who impacted him the most, the one’s whose face cut into him deeply.

“Ms. Mookal, I hope you’re enjoying your stay in America,” Tony began with a tired smile upon his face.

The interpreter began to speak, but the woman held up her hand, head shaking lightly. “No, no, I understand English perfectly clear,” she explained, though her accent was obvious and rather thick. “I studied here in America for a time before returning home… I… never expected to be attacked. We lived near Bangkok and it almost seemed safe from all of that…”

“Nowhere is ever entirely safe from people with guns and hate, Ms. Mookal.”

Wiping a single tear from her eye, the woman nodded, teeth gritting together. “I know, but it’s still a shock. What did you need to know, Mr. Stark?”

“I just wanted to ask a few questions. I’m hoping I can understand the situation more at the moment. The U.S. government is still swamped with work, after all, and I’m hoping to lend a helping hand to good Ol’ Uncle Sam. Now, uh, do you know the location of the group that attacked you, the Ten Rings?”

“They’re spread out across Thailand, and I know they’re within India and China too. I heard much about them over the years, especially while in America. They were small compared to some of these mutant groups or the Taliban but… suddenly, they got bigger, especially after all those horrible disasters.” 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to forget about the horrible yesterdays, Tony waved his hand dismissively. “That much I know, Ms. Mookal. What I want to know is if you have any idea where that specific group is stationed.”

“I saw them heading towards the mountains, and they must be stationed within a certain distance of Bangkok… if not within it.”

“Thank you. Now, do you know who leads them? This specific group.”

“No I… uhm… I think… I think they called the one that lead them during the attack… Raza? Sorry if I am not much help.”

“No, honey, you’re doing fine. Did they say anything about what they wanted, besides food and new soldiers? Was there any indication they attacked your community for a specific reason?”

“None. They seemed to not even know that your men were stationed nearby. It was… sloppy? They came in, shot at what they could, and left when caught wind of trouble.”

“Yes, I suppose it was pretty fortunate my researchers were within shot. I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with the Ten Rings within Thailand, but it’s the first time we…” Tony trailed off, eyes wandering away from Mookal’s gaze. 

“Found survivors?”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you know how they got their weapons? We’ve found no actual way they could have gotten Stark tech without a lot of dirty dealing going on.”

She shook her head, more fervently than last time. “That is beyond me, Mr. Stark.”

Tony tapped the interpreter on the shoulder and they both rose from his seat, Stark cracking the calcium within the vertebrae of his spine. “You’ve given me what I needed to know, regardless. Now, call up room service and harass one of the bellboys, why don’t you?” 

Her smile was small, but warm.

The voice of James Rhodes, however, was grating. At least it was to Tony. As he pressed his earpiece down into his canal, he felt like each of the Corporal’s words were napalm. “Hell no, I am not giving you those details, Stark. You want me to break the trust I have between me and my government for YOU? Yeah, why don’t shove it up your ass?”

“James, Rhodey, look, I know we’ve had a lot of friction--” Before he could continue, Rhodes cut him off with a fierce bite at the air.

“Friction, Stark?! You keep talking like we had a goddamned road bump.”

“--Ok, we’ve literally been working against each other for the better part of 2 years. Fine? We good? I’m sorry if I fucked you over, and I’m also sorry for asking this of you. But I do not intend to let these crazy people keep their grubby little hands around the throats of every major country in the East. Besides, shouldn’t you be waving your flag high at this?”

“Stark, there’s… it’s complicated. We don’t know anything about the Ten Rings and how they operate besides speculation and some names connected with them through other groups. I cannot allow you to interfere with government business.”

“I know you want to be the one to shove a missile down each of their various orifices, but you need to help me out here. My brother’s corpse can’t supply you with the necessary tech for more of your armors if some stupid snafu blows up in your face, and I can. I’m not asking you to swallow down that ever charming pride of yours, but I want to help these people. This is my fault, I know it is, and the military is spread thin as it is. This is literally what I made the IronTech suits for.”

“Tony, I can‘t--”

“Rhodey, I am dying. Every single day I’m dying a little more because of rampant neoplasia in my big, intricate networks of brainmeat. I’ve been trying to fix my mistakes since then, even as more keep piling up. I know you still hate me--”

“Jesus, Tony, stop it with the sob story. You’re making me want to pick up your vice. Ok, I’ll send you what I can about Raza and the last places we’ve seen him and his group. You’ll have to work on your own from there, and I can not back you up any more than that. This is between me and you. Not anyone else. Not the military, not S.H.I.E.L.D. I’m letting YOU take care of this, Mister ‘Iron Man’.” 

The line went dead abruptly, and Stark let out a sigh, unsure whether to think of it as one of relief or sadness.

“You probably could have just hacked something, or paid someone off. Aren‘t you still plugged into every database I can care to sneer at?” Happy inquired, large hands checking Tony’s pulse.

“Oh, of course. But that would have taken time I don’t have, alerted people I don’t need breathing down my neck, and allowed me to avoid talking to yet another person that has legitimate reasons to hate my guts. But Rhodes will come through, and maybe I can show him I’m not the fuckup I used to be. Besides, I just shaved off a good three minutes from my usual info-gathering/suit up combo record.”

“Just slightly less of a waste of skin, then?”

“Just enough.”

Stark’s personal ’puddle jumper’, currently careening over the clouds of Thailand, its inner workings suspended in liquid Teflon, dipped lower. One of the technicians removed Tony’s earpiece, and affixed several flexi-metal pads onto his skin, placing in several unassuming, circular devices into the pads’ cervices. Happy and Pepper went to work, turning on and tuning in the various nuances of one of the more complex Iron Man suits as the technicians scurried here and there, snapping on the necessary modifications, several of which went to Stark himself. 

“Those nerve stimulators should be working properly, Tony, along with the dampening field generators. They‘re keyed on to the registry within our own guns and explosives. All you have to worry about is conventional slugs,” Pepper chimed in as the nearly be-suited Iron Man flexed one of his arms, watching it move with a nimble quality that was foreign to his muscles.

“Nothing like controlled muscle tampering. I might as well cut off my limbs and call myself Steve Austin at this point.”

“You’d be a few million dollars over budget,” Happy remarked, signaling to let the leg harness join with its other pieces, allowing for the main torso component to be lowered down by automated hands. 

Soon, the faceplate clamped down, and a digital overlay fed Tony the startup information. Red, gold, and grey encased Tony Stark, a shell of his own design, humaniod yet bulbous, powerful yet sleek. The diagnostics team gave him the go ahead. Without making a witty remark, Tony activated the launching bay doors, sending him out of the plane, the propulsion systems within his bootjets kicking in. 

“Iron Man is go,” Pepper’s voice rang in through the helmet’s intercom. “Feeding you the data package we received from Corporal Rhodes along with those triangulations you requested, Tony. You’ve now got a general mission zone, is that clear?” 

“Yes, mom. I’ll be sure to bring home the milk and eggs while I’m at it. Does dad want some lotto tickets, too?” Even as Stark spoke, the helmet’s map of the lush Thailand mountains updated, leading to a small change in trajectory. 

“Dad wants you to settle this debacle so he can go back to his soaps,” Happy snipped.

“Tell me if Damian comes out of his irreversible coma and discovers his girlfriend is actually his long-lost dog, Hap,” Tony replied with a small snort. “According to this, Raza has been a real player in the Asian underworld since he was a kid. Eventually got into terrorism in the Chinese scene. Erroneous reports of possibly being a part of the Xinjiang bombings of the Nineties, and raising to power in the last nine years. Thrilling stuff.”

“What’s the point of them raiding Thailand communities anyway?” Pepper asked as Tony drew closer to the target area. “They don’t even seem to be fighting for anything, and they have no set pattern of recruitment. Are they extremists? Modern day pirates? Anarchists in the bushes?”

“Well, I’m bound to find out, if I can hear them over the sounds of their jamming rifles.” While the ride was smooth. turbulence hit in the form of a sniper round from a Stark Longnose No. 4 traveling at five thousand feet per second. The round bounced from the armor’s plating, but not without registering on the suit’s computer. “Got a confirmation on hostilities, gonna be a second before visu-- oh.”

Carved neatly into the side of a mountain, almost hidden cozily within it, was a small stronghold of stone and metal, the dots of human figures skittering about it like ants. “Well, that’s strange. And it’s about to be a scrapheap.” With one final push, the sound barrier popped around Iron Man’s bootjets, sending the metal warrior screaming towards the encampment. 

A cacophony of gunfire filled the air, trigger after trigger being pulled in a vain attempt at retaliation. “Making it rain,” was the only thing Tony said to his support crew before activating the crowd clearing protocols within the suit. The armor’s eyeslits glowed a bright, devilish blue through the haze of smoke that followed the IronTech Mini-Missiles, the barrage of small, pointed tubes embedding themselves within the stronghold for half a second before detonating.

Just as planned, as he drew near, all of Stark’s stolen weaponry shorted out, the inner workings of the guns overheating, rendering them blown out. Useless. The members of the Ten Rings scattered this way and that, seemingly disappearing in the chaos. By the time the suit was able to hover behind the walls of the base, each brick and metal strip placed in some kind of strange amalgamation of a feudal castle mixed with some neo-techno sensibilities, the battle already seemed over. With a suspicious lack of bodies. 

“Tony?” Pepper finally spoke up, breaking Stark’s concentration.

“If you’re about to inform me I have been played by a bunch of backwater hillbillies, I’m afraid I’ll save you th--” Alarms blared throughout the suit’s overlay, and the neural stimulators kicked in, allowing Tony to discharge a wide blast from one of the wrist mounted Repulser Beam Emitters. The straight line of pure death cut into the tidal wave of oncoming… Mini-Missiles. Even as the sky filled with the brilliant oranges and reds of explosions, a figure emerged from the flames, its velocity exceeded reasonable reaction time.

The ensuing shockwave of the massive, metallic figure slamming against the ground sent Tony sprawling outward, crashing into the main structure of the stronghold, revealing its less than satisfying insides. “It’s…” Iron Man mumbled, mostly to himself, trying to regain coherence. “It’s almost completely empty. Something is very wrong here.”

“Like your existence, Mr. Stark,” the other mechanical man said, voice filtered through the systems of his mask. Once he stood tall, the five feet of size separating the armored men became obvious. The other man was almost solid green, chestpiece adoring a strange symbol, what looks like a trinket in the shape of a circle filled in with ten other circles, each little circle cradling an intricate sign within it. The armor itself was a Frankensteinian monstrosity, mangled supertech interlocking with military grade weaponry, creating an ugly appearance, promising Hellfire and retribution with every moved servo and gear. 

“…Raza, I presume,” Tony guessed aloud, steadying his armor.

“You presume correctly, Mr. Stark. As you can see, I came prepared for this eventuality.”

“You look like a junkyard threw up on you while it was listening to some nu-metal band.”

“Very funny. Banter over. Please, attempt not to explode over the walls too much.” A small platform rose from the shoulder of Raza’s suit, firing out a shell that was far too large for its own good. Even as Tony raised his arms up to activate his shield array, the shell had already began shattering apart, a bigger burst of fire and force following each stage of its shedding.

Meanwhile, the last thing that went through the head of one of the guards at Stark International HQ was a bullet. Blood caked the floors and hallways, leaving some running, but most crying in a crumbled heap within the corners and hideaways of the complex. A man reloaded the odd revolver which seemed attached to his arm through a series of wires and tubes. “Now,” he started, looming over the weeping form of one of the many members of general upkeep crew, his usually white uniform stained crimson. “Your boss talks a lot about the ‘future of humanity’ you know? A lot about the evolution of mankind, the onrushing inevitability of the transhuman.”

Pointing his gun at the upkeeper, the firearm’s cold barrel feeling even colder against the upkeeper’s sweating forehead, the man flashed a dagger-sharp smile. “But does he ever care to actually think about the future? To change himself? To go to places where no one else goes? God no. Man, hell no. That’d just be stupid. Me, on the other hand? I’m all about that. Overcoming the limitations of the human body. Furthermore, I’m all about the future. And I honestly think the aforementioned future will be better off without Stark filth flooding the cities.”

Pulling the revolver away from the upkeeper, the man let out a dark chuckle, not a single iota of mirth within the sound. “But, maybe you’ll be fine. In fact, please, tell them. Tell them all. This is all a message, written in blood. ‘No more Iron Man.’ Signed…

The Mandarin.”


End file.
